Desolate, Book I of the Immortal Rose Trilogy (25 page)

My heart thumps
wildly in my chest as I cling to the wall and to Vladimir’s
hand. I detest him knowing my fear, though I am incapable of veiling
it.

A moment later,
Vladimir shocks me by turning and stepping straight over the cliff.
My cry of alarm is strangled in my throat as he lands a few feet
below. I step toward the ledge and discover a set of natural steps
carved into the mountainside.

Before I can react,
Vladimir clamps his hands about my calves and lifts me down to him,
his hands sliding along my sides as he lowers me to my feet. “You
are trembling,” he says. His gaze is demanding as he stares
down at me.

“I am not
overly fond of heights.” My voice sounds pinched and meek.

Vladimir chuckles.
“Then that is something we shall have to remedy.”

The remainder of our
descent leaves me breathless and deeply shaken. He pushes me to rush
down the steep gradient. I cry out multiple times as the earth
becomes unsettled and pelts down around me, though the rocks beneath
my feet never move. When my feet touch the ground, I am captured by
the need to drop to my knees and kiss the dirt.

“This way.”
Vladimir has already begun to disappear into the darkness. My legs
feel weak as I move to follow after him. We weave through tangled
brush and thickly overgrown trees. This part of the land is wild and
untamed by man.

In the distance, I
hear the call of a wolf. It’s howl echoes off the walls of the
canyon, making it nearly impossible to locate it. Vladimir walks
ahead with no sign of fear or exhaustion. I, on the other hand, feel
unkempt and shaken.

Nearly ten paces
ahead, Vladimir pushes aside a fallen branch and stops. His head
lowers and he looks upon the ground. I approach silently behind him,
curious about his odd behavior.

He moves aside to
allow me room to stand beside him, all the while holding back the
branch so there is space for us. I stare down at the ground, confused
as to why he has brought me here.

The space before me
is nearly thirty paces across and half that again, creating a small
clearing. The ground appears to be sunken. Grass grows in errant
clumps, though hardly well enough to spread out and thrive. A chill
trickles down my spine as I catch a scent on the air. It is dank and
tinged with death.

A great cracking
from behind startles me as Vladimir appears to tire from holding the
branch and rips it clean from the tree. He hurtles it into the woods
where it crashes to the ground with a splintering of dead wood.

“This place
feels ripe with age,” I whisper into the darkness. The
moonlight shifts unevenly through the trees, casting a dappled glow
over the ground.

“Can you smell
it?”

I shake my head.
“No. It is more…” I pause, unsure of how to
explain the knowledge. “It is more of a feeling, I suppose.”

I sense him nodding
behind me, though I do not turn to look. “This place is
cursed,” he says. The haunted tone of his voice makes my
stomach coil with unease. “You stand before a grave site.”

I swallow roughly.
“Of your victims?”

He is silent for a
moment. “No. Of my wives.”

Horrified, I try to
step back, though I find myself pressed against my husband’s
chest. He is tall and unmovable. His hands come to rest upon my arms,
locking me against his chest.

“Why have you
brought me here?” I ask as tears begin to well in my eyes. This
space is large enough to contain dozens of bodies… if they
were left as bodies at all.

I can feel the
warmth of his breath against my neck as he presses his forehead
against the back of my head. “I do not wish to see this be your
fate.”

“And yet you
force me to fight.”

“Yes,”
he whispers. His fingers tighten and release against my arms. I can
feel his emotion, raw and volatile. “It is the only way to keep
you from harm.”

“Keep me from
harm?” I break free of his grip as I turn to stare at him with
incredulity. “A battle to the death is your way of keeping me
safeguarded?”

He averts his gaze.
His jaw clenches tightly enough for me to hear it pop before he looks
back at me. “You do not know our ways. There are rules, laws
that even I am unable to abandon.”

I bite my lower lip
as I curl my arms about my waist. I turn to look back at the grave,
wondering how many women have been brutally slaughtered before me.

“Fane will
teach you how to survive.” His words draw me back. I am
surprised by the tension in his voice and of the manner in which he
speaks.

My
chest clenches as realization falls over me.
He
cares for me. In his own twisted and revolting way, he cares.

“You wish to
see me survive?” I ask with great hesitation.

He nods, his gaze
lowered. To see such vulnerability in him is deeply disturbing.
Thoughts race through my mind as I struggle to match up the beast who
defiles me each night with this insecure man standing before me. How
can he treat me in such a repulsive manner yet appear to have
affection for me as well?

A
newfound awareness dawns as I stare back at the man who has stripped
bare every part of my soul.
I
can hurt him

I press my shoulders
back and lift my chin. “I will need to be healthy while I
train.”

He glances up at me,
his eyes wide and glistening in the dim moonlight. He tilts his head,
as if listening to the distant howls instead of my words spoken just
before him. “What is it that you suggest?”

My
mouth feels parched as I try to swallow.
Do
not press too far,
I
warn myself as my tongue darts between my lips to wet them. Vladimir
follows the movement and I see a change in his gaze.

For the first time
since I arrived, I realize I am not completely without power. His
desire for me is a weakness. Lucien knows this and has voiced his
concerns on more than one occasion.

I take a deep breath
and watch as his gaze flits down to the low, sweeping neckline of my
dress. “You need to take more care with me.”

Vladimir’s
gaze snaps up to meet mine. His lips peel back from his teeth. A low
growl begins to rumble in his chest. I raise a hand. “I am not
finished.”

His eyes widen with
surprise. I have no doubt my own do as well as he subsides to listen.
I did not expect him to do so. Feeling the empowerment surge around
me, I take a step forward and place a hand upon his chest. This is
the first time I have ever willingly approached him in such a manner.

I
pray that I know what I am doing. My
hand quakes as I step once more, closing the gap between us so we are
nearly chest to chest. I can feel his heart thumping beneath my hand.
His scent grows strong in my nostrils. His skin flushes as he looks
down at my hand.

“I cannot
train if I am unable to walk,” I whisper, slowly sliding my
hand up from his heart. A low groan rises from his throat as my
fingertips move across the hollow of his neck. I watch the increase
in his pulse at his neck. “Perhaps for a while you might manage
to hold back some of your… passion.” I fight to hide my
disgust as I choose my words carefully.

He reaches up to
grasp my hand, pressing my palm against his cheek. He breathes in
deep, drawing me close. His arms wrap about my waist. Internally, I
can hear myself shrieking, beating against his chest to be free of
his embrace, though I show none of it outwardly.

“You would be
willing?” A musky scent rises from his skin as he presses me
back against a tree. I can feel the warmth of his flesh as he presses
the length of his body against mine. He dips his face and buries it
into my neck. His teeth nip at my shoulder as his hands lower to cup
my waist.

A single tear slips
from eye as I roll my neck to the side and allow him access. “Yes,”
I whisper, knowing all too well I have just made a deal with the
devil.

After a week passes,
I begin to fear for Fane’s safety. His disappearance from the
castle has gone unacknowledged by all except for myself. Vladimir has
made no mention of his delay, nor has he given me any reason to
question his involvement in this matter either. My husband seems
rather indifferent on the matter.

Since I spoke my
damning vow beside the grave of Vladimir’s former wives, I have
discovered new depths to misery. My husband no longer beats upon me
as he did before, though with each night that passes, I feel a pain
far more profound winding its way into my soul. Willingly giving
myself to Vladimir has made me feel withered and fragile.

His touch is softer,
his time spent in my bed lengthened, as he takes his time to search
each curve of my body. It is getting hard to hold back the tears. His
embrace sickens me, though I know I had no other choice. If I am to
survive and perhaps seek a way to escape, I must be able to fight.

I only pray that
someday my actions will no longer be weighted with self-loathing.

Night draws near as
I stand before the window. Will Fane return on this night? Surely he
cannot linger much longer. Already winter has begun to show signs of
waning. Spring bulbs have begun to bud on the trees. The air fills
with the sweet scent of flowers ready to burst to life.

I fear the spring,
for with it comes the hunt, and I have yet to prepare.

In the confines of
my room, I have begun to survey the grounds with a far more critical
eye. I search for dips in the valleys and crevices among the rocks.
It is a little thing, though it is something.

I try to prepare
myself mentally for what lies ahead in only a few short weeks. Time
passes as quickly as water through my fingers. I am terrified of my
fate.

My shoulders slump
as I press my face against the chill of the stone beside my window.
My eyes grow heavy from lack of rest. Months of little sleep have
begun to wear on me. As my eyelids begin to droop, I spy a lantern in
the dark. I jerk upright, blinking rapidly to be sure my vision is
clear.

Fane!

I cannot catch his
scent yet, though I know it must be him. The rest of my brethren have
begun to feast in the great hall below. Several new guests have
arrived from the east. Vladimir will be distracted with their tales
long into the night.

My
heart rate rises as I watch the lantern in the woods flicker in and
out. The horse is traveling far too swiftly for a normal rider.
Between the gusts of wind, I can hear its hooves pounding the ground.
It
must be him!

Gathering my skirts
about me, I rise from my seat. I nearly laugh at the feel of a smile
gracing my lips. It feels unnatural to smile, to feel even the
smallest bit of joy, yet I do. I had not realized before how much I
have grown to desire his company.

I glance one last
time at the window and decide tonight I will willingly emerge from my
room. If I move quickly, I may be able to skirt the great hall and
escape detection. The desire to greet Fane at the stables pulls me
away from the window.

I turn toward the
exit and come to an abrupt halt. The door to my room stands open
wide. Atticus stands in the doorway, his large frame filling the
space so it is hard to detect the flickering of candlelight in the
sconce beyond.

“It is rude to
enter a lady’s chamber without permission.” I
instinctively shift away so my back is not against the wall. I do not
trust this man, nor do I have any intention of placing myself at a
disadvantage. He reeks of blood. His eyes are wide, his face flushed.

He
has consumed too much,
I
realize as the telltale signs of blood lust become blatantly obvious
to me. He sways slightly as he takes a step into my room.

“It is equally
rude to look so ravishing,” he says as he leans back against
the doorframe.

“Vladimir will
take your tongue off for speaking such things to me,” I hiss as
I step behind my bed.

Atticus watches me
closely. His lips part as his gaze weaves down from my lips to the
rise of my chest. “He is preoccupied with other…
interests at the moment. I am sure he will not even note my departure
from the feast.”

My heart thrums
frantically in my chest. His smile broadens and his eyes droop
slightly as he listens to my panic. He breathes in deep, savoring the
scent of fear that betrays me. “I will scream.”

“I sincerely
hope so.” He closes the door behind him with a foot. “No
one will hear you though. The hall is filled with merriment the likes
of which even you could not interrupt. The revelry has begun early
and you, my sweet, innocent child, are not expected to be in
attendance. We are all alone.”

His hands drift down
the front of his coat, slowly working each golden button. I take a
step back, my gaze sweeping the room in search of a weapon, though
none exist. After my previous attempts to take my life, all sharp
objects have been removed from my room.

I look to the mirror
on my table as my only source of hope, yet I know that he will be
upon me before I ever reach it. I turn at the sound of fabric
shifting and see him watching me with the hungry eyes of a mountain
lion about to devour its prey. His shirt hangs open, untucked from
his trousers.

“I have waited
a long time for this.” He smiles as he takes a step in my
direction.

I inch closer to the
fire, praying its heat will keep him at bay, though Atticus is too
far gone to give a care for a little discomfort. As he lunges for me,
I dip low and grab a handful of ash from the hearth and thrust it
into his eyes. He cries in outrage and swipes blindly at me.

I throw myself onto
my bed, scrambling to my knees as he clambers after me. His hand
snags the hem of my dress, pulling me back as I try to slide over the
far edge of the mattress.

“Come back
here, wench,” he growls as he grasps nothing more than a
handful of fabric.